Chronicles of Litwak's Arcade
by crankyman7
Summary: The Surge Protector ruminates on notable events in the history of Litwak's Arcade, from its opening in 1979 through the end of 2012
1. Section I

**Introduction**

As I write, the last minutes of the old year slip away, and 2012 fades into 2013. So much has passed, so many things have happened. My circuits are full, yet I cannot speak- for who will listen to the despised guardian? In my solitude, I turn to writing. My keen powers of observation will, I trust, aid me in the composition of this history.

Yet will they? That night in November -that night on which everything changed- has laid bare the oversights I never knew I made. My powers of observation were not as keen as I thought. How else could it be, that I should not have suspected the survival of Turbo?

But I write nonetheless. For thirty-three years I have defended this arcade. Rejected, detested, friendless save for two, I nonetheless press on. I perform the duty for which I was designed. In the performance of that duty, I have seen many things. Some of those things were pleasurable. Others were disheartening. Still others elicited shrugs. Tonight, they crowd my faculties, take hold of my imagination, refusing to let go. They place pressure on my frame; they must be freed. And so I release them onto these pages. Primitive though such a form of communication be, yet do I embrace it as comforting. It makes me wax eloquent…

…Bah ! Such affectation. I must not weary myself. I am not flowery. This doesn't come naturally to me. It's so…artificial. I must come to the point.

And so I begin.


	2. Section II

**Of My Beginnings**

I am, to put it bluntly, a Surge Protector. I'm an old Surge Protector at that. I debuted in 1979. The latest and the greatest, I was called. Designed by some guy with a pitiful excuse for mutton chops, if I remember correctly. I can't be sure, since my memories from before I was plugged in are so vague.

But what of after I was plugged in? Oh, I remember that vividly. It was, if you will pardon the pun, an electrifying experience.

Yes, I have a sense of humor. Would that I could share it with the world. But it takes a lot out of me to crack a joke. Why, I don't know. But it does.

What can I recall of those first few moments? They consisted chiefly of a flood of information about my purpose. I knew my job was to defend. I didn't see anyone about; I had no idea who or what I was supposed to defend. But I knew I had to defend…something…against storms, voltage spikes, and other such occurrences.

I could observe myself. I had a lot of little holes in my body. Plugs, they call them. I was grey, made of plastic on the outside, with circuits and wiring on the inside. It's all very technical. I'd outline it all here, but I kind of have to dumb this account down a bit, on the oft chance I show it to Otis and Floyd. Good souls, they are, but not overly knowledgeable about such things. And besides, this account isn't just about me. It's about life in Litwak's Arcade.

I should return to the tale.

I recall Mr. Litwak standing over me, quite delighted with my presence. It's not easy to put into words the way in which I was aware of them. I might be able to tell it in binary, perhaps. But English is my means of communicating with the game characters.

I digressed again.

Anyway, Mr. Litwak was standing over me, looking very pleased. He didn't say anything, but he stepped aside quickly. He seemed to be heading towards a brown and yellow cabinet of some kind. It had a long cord coming out of the back. He pulled out the cord, and plugged it into one of the plugs in my side.

And that was when my question was finally answered. I was supposed to defend arcade cabinets.


	3. Section III

**Of the Coming of Pong**

The next thing I knew, I was suddenly absorbing information about the cabinet that had been plugged into me. I learned its, name, its function, and so on.

Its name- _Pong._ I ought to thank my lucky stars that game showed up. Otis and Floyd are among the staunchest friends anyone can have.

Not that I knew what was to come at the time. No, all I knew was what I had already described.

For a time, I could sense that they were within the game. They were safe in there, I knew. Mr. Litwak and a friend of his, whom he called Albert, were playing the game. It was from overhearing those two that I learned the names of the paddles. The names weren't in the code.

Come nighttime, however, Otis and Floyd decided to venture out into the space within the power strip. No sooner had they come out than I began to introduce myself, explain how to stay safe, etc. I was halfway done before I realized they hadn't heard a word I said.

Naturally, this puzzled me. It took several minutes of thinking before inspiration struck.

I gathered various particles of my essence into one place, where I began to shape and mold them. I had only the pair of humans I'd seen as a reference. I confess I was very much a blend of Mr. Litwak and Albert Rae, albeit with some modifications of my own. The receding hairline, for instance? All my idea.

My body formed, I tested it. It was somewhat awkward at first, but a few minutes' worth of practice sufficed to get the basic movements down. Making notes of the composition of particles I had used, I dematerialized and then rematerialized beside the two paddles.

They had been shouting hello for a good sixty seconds by this point, and were in the middle of shouting the word again when I appeared.

"That hurts my ears," I said by way of response. They looked at me -how they did, lacking faces, I couldn't tell, but I knew they did. Their silence was almost like a reprimand.

"I made a factual statement," I said, hoping to ease the tension.

"Okay," the one called Otis replied, his voice rather like that of a specter.

"I did not mean to be offensive," I added.

"No, it's not that," Floyd chimed in. "It's just that you sound bored."

The dramatic contrast between Floyd's more human-sounding voice and his fellow paddle's eerie tones would have startling on its own. But Floyd's assertion gave me additional reason for reflection.

The truth was that I _was_ speaking in a monotone.

"It's just how I talk," I said. "Meantime, I need to inform you of some things.

We then proceeded to converse for quite some time. It was a useful exercise in communication for me, and I was truly fortunate that the paddles were good listeners.

Well, most of the time they were. Every so often, they would insert an aside or comment meant to represent a form of humor.

We parted amicably enough, if exhausted. Getting what I had to say through to them had proven a strenuous task; I simply wasn't used to communicating by my chosen method yet.

Little did I realize how much more labor intensive my duties would soon become.


	4. Section IV

**Of the Expansion of the Arcade and the Early Days**

I could say many things about those first three years. The only question is: which things? So many events, so many new characters who arrived…

Well, I suppose I should acknowledge some of the games that were plugged in during this time. _Asteroids, Space Invaders, PacMan, Missile Command_…bah, there're too many to remember. Many of them are gone now- games have periodically gone down the tube since 1987. I have some suspicions…

…No, this section isn't the place to address them.

Anyways, we had a few new traditions develop during this time. Game Central Station -my innards, mind you- became _the_ place to hang out. This was before Tapper took some of the strain off of me when he showed up later on, you know. I'm sure I irked a number of folks simply by doing my job. In fact, I know I did. I'd relate a few anecdotes about some altercations with the spaceship pilot from _Asteroids_ if it weren't for the fact that some of the things he said would make a drill sergeant blush. There are times when I don't know whether to feel sorry that he died, or relieved that he was gone before _Sugar Rush_ got plugged in. I had enough trouble back in the day just getting the paperboy to watch his tongue, without having to stuff soap into the mouths of a whole swarm of kids. I hope he never relapses, or Ralph may get some awkward linguistics-related questions from Vanellope.

May the developers preserve us if _that_ happens.

I digress again…such is my style.

Where was I? Oh yes- traditions.

I settled into my grand routine, if you will. Day in and day out, no break. What a mercy it is that I'm tireless, so I can perform my tasks efficiently. Well, at least until my parts start to wear down. When that happens, though, one of the workers usually comes along and patches me up, and everything goes back to normal. I'd thank them, but I've never figured out how to speak to them. And of course, there's the fact that it would probably freak them out.

I should say a few words about the customers. In those days, we had a lot of kids. We were really popular. Kids seem to come in a lot of varieties. Some are pretty nice, so far as kids go. Others are among the most thoroughly inconsiderate individuals I've ever seen, getting into arguments about who gets to play what game first, etc. Their lack of logic astounds me at times; I sometimes left wondering if they even know that the concept of taking turns exists.

Then again, some of the kids know the concept.

Oh well, people come in all sorts of varieties, and child gamers are no exception.

Again, I could say a lot of things about this period, but in the interests of brevity, I'll cut this section off here. I've an important event to relate now.

Oh yes- a very important event indeed.


	5. Section V

**Of the Coming of ****_TurboTime_**

Ah, Turbo…Turbo…you…why did you…

…Too soon to relate that. I merely relate his arrival here.

Yet…well, let's just say that when _TurboTime_ made its debut, it wasn't Turbo who looked like the troublemaker. No, that honor belonged to Bunsen. The other twin, Nitro- he was alright. Kind of low-key compared to the other two racers. Bunsen, though- he had trouble written all over his features. The guy's face was an open book to me- frustration at not being the lead character in his own game, at being shouted at by gamers whenever he won, because his victory meant their defeat.

I'll grant that he wasn't so bad initially. Short-tempered and impatient, maybe…but so are plenty of folks. Certainly, he was thoroughly impertinent when he first emerged in Game Central Station and I explained the rules and procedures to him and his fellow characters; he had the gall to interrupt me. But then, I'm not very well-liked anyway, so that's nothing new. Even Nitro, decent as he was, never really seemed to care much about me.

Okay, he never insulted me to my face. That's something at least.

But Turbo didn't either.

Ah, Turbo. I paid so much attention to Bunsen that I missed what was happening with you.

Too soon, though, to talk about that.

But Turbo…you debuted so well. Most everyone loved you, respected you…even when you carried your accounts of your exploits to the level of conceitedness, they were more forgiving of you than of anyone else. You had it all. Even when _RoadBlasters _came and stole your game's popularity, it was only Bunsen who was ever cruel to you- and he was already against you. Why did you shut us out? Why didn't you talk? These characters could have been there for you, if you'd let them.

I could have been there for you.

Why did you throw away everything you ever had?

Why?


End file.
